Much has changed
since 1959. My beloved old childhood LP copy of Peter and
the Wolf, also with the Philharmonia, but conducted by Efrem
Kurtz, is narrated in the comfortingly British voice of Michael
Flanders and is about as far away as one could imagine from
the chill, forbidding Russia in which this modern-day Peter
lives. The only thing which might remind one that this version
is related to British film tradition is that Peter gets himself
into a frightful pickle and achieves his coup more by luck than
design. I was intrigued to find out what my four and a half
year old nudist-for-all-seasons daughter would make of it, but
she dived under a duvet at the blizzard storm of the outset,
and only peeked sporadically from behind a new ‘Pixelchix’ game
– how times have changed!

Intensely detailed,
the soundtrack carries a great deal of subliminal detail. There
is a constant sense of atmospheric space much as one finds in
those total immersion computer games, and distant industrial
noises follow Peter in the yard of his Grandfather’s wretched
shed of a home. We only really become aware of the contemporary
setting however as Peter encounters but is ignored by some trendy
youths and is violently bullied by another pair of lads (on
National Service?) in the local town. This layering of times
present (town) and times stuck in the past (the hovel of home)
is brought full circle when the magical music of Prokofiev starts
as Peter stumbles into the timelessness of the wood.

While there is comfort
in the familiarity of Prokofiev’s wonderful 1936 score, there
is nothing at all comfortable about the imagery and characterisations
in this film. The fat cat is a figure of fun with a madly wicked
look in her eyes, but ultimately pompous and cowardly. Even
my daughter found herfunny, but then, she’s used to
the ways of cats. The bird is another significant character,
with a highly, unexpectedly expressive face. Grandfather’s frown
is unfriendly and unwelcoming, his hands veined beyond credibility:
life can be no fun in their household. The huntsmen are vindictive,
stupid and a danger to others. There is of course no narration,
the film scenarios take care of the storytelling aspect in the
piece. This means that some of the fantasy element in the text
is lost, but nobody really believes you can hear the
silly duck singing inside the belly of the wolf after all that
has happened: Prokofiev reminds us of the wolf’s feast earlier
in the film, but the wolf’s eyes show no contrition. In the
end, Peter triumphs in his own quiet rebellion of freedom. He
makes a mockery of his earlier attackers (who turned out to
be the huntsmen), and the charlatans who would profit from the
capture of the wolf, including Grandfather.

The extras are comprehensive
and excellent. There is a full thematic breakdown including
clips which show the orchestral instruments in action, a ‘making
of’, which shows the stop-frame animators at work, and the background
to the characters and the incredible detail which goes into
such a production. ‘Behind the scenes’ has interviews with Suzie
Templeton and with some of the Polish team, specialist animators
at the Se-Ma-For Studios who worked on the film. The obligatory
Director’s commentary in fact has some fascinating clips from
a rough version of the film, revealing some of the computer
generated work which tidies up the final result, and showing
some out-takes which highlight the pitfalls of such complicated
work. There is some wonderful educational footage of a project
‘Let’s make Peter and the Wolf’ based around the music and the
film, and also the story in text, accompanied by stills from
the film. All in all, one gets a genuine 3D feel for what such
a production can mean for so many people.

All of this extra
material, including a richly illustrated booklet which also
has chapter and verse on the making of the film and further
detailed background information, might swamp what is after all
quite a short film – if feature-length for an animation of this
kind. This might be true if the film itself was not a masterpiece.
The sheer atmosphere and ‘look’ of the film brings the pervasive
smell of coal-fired industry to the nostrils, and that dry,
hard, bone-grinding cold that makes wintry inland Russia feel
like living inside a badly defrosted fan-cooled fridge. The
sense of near-reality and subtle palette of colour and light
teases the eye and the imagination, as do the characters, who
live on in the memory and take on lives of their own beyond
the confines of the filmed footage.

Mark Stephenson’s
reading of the score and the Philharmonia’s playing is sprightly
and characterful, all soloists on top form as one might expect.
The synergy between music and image is glorious. There is only
one thing which I found a little disturbing – I know it’s petty
and picky, but Peter’s eyes do seem capable of independent movement
at times: I’m sure that can’t have been intentional.

This DVD is a wonderful
production. It works on all levels: as a well-known story lovingly
and adventurously retold, as entertainment, education and inspiration
for young and old alike. I must admit to being a fool for stop-frame
animation, and revel in Bristolian pride whenever Wallace and
Gromit pop onto the screen. This film brings such work into different
directions and new levels, extending the boundaries of artistic
excellence of which the technique is capable, and surely deserving
of any and all awards which must surely come its way.

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